Marla and friends trample hands 10 min read

Having your fingers crushed by a woman who either doesn’t know she’s smashing them or doesn’t know you and doesn’t care is the best! On Saturday nights I’ll find a dance club with raised dance platforms about waist high with railings. Then I’ll stand on the lower dance floor and lean casually against a platform with some gorgeous babe dancing there, and nonchalantly place my hand near her foot. In the past, when she’d step on my fingers, I’d leave them there ’til she noticed and apologized, then move to another area of the club. I usually got stomped once, maybe twice, but, it wasn’t anything to write home about. Since then, I’ve found it’s better to act completely drunk…so drunk you don’t feel what is being done to your hand. When the lady tries to get your attention to have you move your hand, just ignore her. Keep on dancing “drunk” or if she’s really blatant about it, look at her with glassy eyes and just yell, “WWoooooo”, like you are totally clueless!

A lot of times, if you leave your hand in place, the lady can’t believe how drunk you are and starts experimenting with how much pressure your hand can take before you notice. You have to be patient, it takes a while for them to get up the nerve. And never look at them or you’ll give yourself away. I’ve had women slowly apply their weight, some of them until they are fully standing on my fingers. Then, they’ll call their girlfriends over to try it. Others will think, “Oh well, I tried to warn him,” and just begin dancing on your fingers as if they aren’t even there. I had one girl dance on my fingers with open-toed chunky black strappy heels for almost an hour! At some point in the trampling, I was literally screaming in pain but I couldn’t be heard over the music, and my fingers were bleeding around the nails from the cruel stomping! Then, eventually, she sort of tripped over my hand and got irritated, tried to kick my hand off the dance platform, and, when I still didn’t move it, looked at my hand, placed her heel on it, and stood on her HEEL, grinding my hand into the floor, saying, “f— you, then!” This is extremely painful, sometimes because when a woman doesn’t know or doesn’t care, there really IS NO MERCY! It’s like placing your hand in a mechanical grinding machine and turning it on! And, the women don’t really know how horrible the crush under a stiletto heel can be since they only experience a little bump as they crush your hand into the floor!

The best was two New Year Eves ago. I was at a club leaning against a dance platform, hand in place when a tall, athletic college woman accidentally stepped on it with her spike heel. She had smashed down in a dance step with her full weight and left a deep gouge in the top of my hand. She was about to apologize when she noticed I hadn’t reacted. She said, “No way!”, and brutally stomped on my hand to see if I’d feel it! When, again, I didn’t react (and that was tough, let me tell you), she stood, full weight with the toes of both shoes on my hand, and began trampling in place, laughing! Then, she applied the toe of one shoe to my hand, stood on it, and ground it under her shoe like a cigarette butt!

But the cruelest treatment I’ve ever had was in New York City. Seems more women are total bitches there or something. I was in line for a club, already pretty drunk, and dressed like a nerd…that’s another thing that makes them want to hurt you… when six women (all knockouts in tight dresses, boots, and platform heels tried to cut in line. I made a scene and the bouncer took them out of line only to let them in the door immediately, but I’d still pissed them off! Once I was in the bar, I was actually just sitting on the edge of this raised bar area with stools and tables, looking for a place to ply my craft, when the leg of a stool brushed over my hand, as a clubgoer moved it closer to a table. I heard a voice say, “Don’t put it down on his fingers!” and I recognized the voice of one of the girls outside the club! I immediately started acting very drunk, swaying from side to side as if I didn’t know where I was, and instantly heard the girl I’d had the argument with outside say, “Hey, it’s HIM! And he’s drunk off his ass! Let me teach him a lesson, Kelly!”

A moment later, the leg of the stool was placed squarely on my left hand. I heard another girl say, “Go ahead, he won’t feel it ’til morning!” And without further warning, the girl, an athletic brunette with big hair, and muscular, dancer’s legs, about 5’7″, (though she looked a lot taller from my lower vantage point), wearing a tight black silk mini dress and black spike heels, sat down heavily on the stool, saying, “Oh, yeah! How does THAT feel, asshole?!”.

The leg of the stool ground into my hand like a tent stake…no give, and no mercy, as she shifted her weight! This heavenly babe, weighing, I would guess, about 130, with a stocky, athletic build, sat on the stool, grinding my fingers into the floor for the better part of an hour, as she casually drank beer and talked with her friends! Sometimes, she’d totally forget what she was sitting on and start laughing with her friends, shifting her weight, sometimes BOUNCING on the stool!

Occasionally, she would look down at me and say something like, “I’ve probably crushed every bone on his hand by now! Whatever!”, and go back to her conversation! I can’t tell you what the pain was like after all that time. When she would shift her weight, I’d see her bare thighs flex first, know what was coming, and then the stool leg would grind even deeper into my already tenderized hand! I could see her sharp heels clipped into the rungs of the stool as she was toying with them. I was seeing stars before my eyes from the pain. I actually wanted it to stop but, I knew this would never happen again and if I said anything, I’d regret it soon afterward.

After a longer while, a guy came over and tried to pick her up, bringing her a drink. She got up from the stool to talk to him, and, as her weight left the stool, the worst pain of the evening flooded my hand. I thought the ordeal was over, but I shouldn’t have been so naive! She then stood beside the stool, looked coyly at her friends, and stepped on my fingers with BOTH SPIKE HEELS, fully standing on them as she talked to this guy.

Hef friends and she were laughing because they could see what she was doing to me even though the guy didn’t know. Her heels had worn down to steel tips and they simply cut into my hand with more pain than I thought was possible. She’d tell this guy how she was just a nice girl and she’d like to meet a nice guy…that she wouldn’t hurt a fly! And, with that, she’d shift her weight fully back onto the sharp spikes and trample the heels wickedly into my hand! Her friends thought this irony was very funny indeed!

I was sweating from the pain and getting lightheaded as I felt her place the heel of one of her shoes on my pinky finger. She applied her full weight to that one as she asked the guy, “Where are you from?” and I felt the finger crack, but more like the knuckle, not like it was broken; although, I wasn’t convinced I could tell for sure since my whole hand was numb with pain and covered with heel marks and a giant bruise from where the stool had been placed! Of course, it wasn’t obvious in the dim club lighting from up where she was. Part of me wanted her to stop and part of me was scared she would because she’d felt my finger crack under her full weight.

When the guy left, she stepped off my hand and I had to move it…I just had to. I didn’t think I could take anymore! When she saw me move my hand she thought maybe I was sobering up and she called, “Hey, are you okay? I think I stepped on your hand!” When I didn’t react, she said to her friends, “No, he’s still out of it! Let’s do his other hand!”

I heard some giggling and then she came around the railing, down the five stairs to where I was, and started putting the moves on me like she was really attracted. She rubbed herself all over me and ran her hands down my arms to my hands. Then she slowly maneuvered my other hand (I was still acting drunk) onto the edge of the platform floor. As soon as she placed it there, I felt the heavy boot of one of the other girls step fully onto my hand, then adjust so my hand was trapped in the arch of the boot! I thought I could still pull it out if I had to, but, soon found out otherwise.

The girls were all really drunk by now, and any thought of restraint or inhibition was thrown to the wind. It became a nonstop crush fest as the girls took turns stomping, walking over, standing grinding, and trampling in place on my other hand with their heels! There was no mercy at all. They would have crushed spiders with more consideration than they were showing me. It became a competition. “My turn, let me try…wait, Marla’s got the sharpest heels…Marla, grind his pinky!” And, then I’d feel Marla’s spike heel, all her weight applied to it, grind and twist back and forth on my pinky finger while Marla laughed her ass off!

It was about this time that “Last Call” was announced and the girls started discussing who was driving home. The trampling stopped while one girl stood on my fingers with the heel of her cowboy boot. As they filed out to leave, Kelly, the one who’d started the whole thing said, “Hey, nice meeting you!”, and viciously heel-walked over my hand, balancing her full weight on it for a second as she gave her heel a nasty twist.

They walked out laughing at me, saying they’d never had a chance to get back like that at a man before! My hands were bruised to a pulp! I couldn’t drive because I couldn’t grip the steering wheel, so I took a cab. It took me five full minutes to get the money out of my wallet to pay him!

I still have the precious scars from Kelly’s heels! I went back to the club some weeks later, after my hand had begun to heal, but didn’t see the girls again. I don’t know if I would or could endure the kind of pain they inflicted that night, again, but I know it is my most intense and treasured trampling experience. The girls probably haven’t even given it another thought!